


Four Times Alec and Magnus Didn’t Go on a Date, and One Time They Did

by MouseBouse



Series: Four Times [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 4+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseBouse/pseuds/MouseBouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alec and Magnus are college students who accidentally see each other, accidentally like each other, accidentally meet each other, and purposely go out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Time – Café

**Author's Note:**

> A mix of the obligatory café, bar, college, and piercing/tattoo AU's.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://mousebouse.tumblr.com).

On a sunny and inexplicably warm Monday morning, Magnus walked into one of the cafés on campus, situating himself into the corner booth after getting a caramel latte. He pulled out his sketch pad, carefully pushing his coffee further away on the table so he wouldn’t spill it all over his project. This week’s assignment for one of his classes was to design an outfit incorporating denim. People in his class that he’d talked to were either playing it safe and going with jeans, or doing something completely out-there, like this girl who decided to design a full-on superhero suit with denim instead of spandex. Not that Magnus wouldn’t like to see, for example, the Flash in denim.

Magnus hadn’t had much luck when it came to inspiration for this particular project, hence leaving it until the very last day. Or, the very last four hours, as it were. There had been a few drawings he’d done, but none of them were good enough to turn in. He’d thrown them away, knowing he could come up with something better, but as he stared at the blank page in front of him now, he could see how big of a mistake he’d made. No ideas came to mind, and he could feel panic creeping in. Never in his two and a half years of college life had he missed a deadline. And now it would happen because of an assignment as silly as this.

He sipped the latte, trying to balance a pencil on his finger (and failing), when loud laughter from the counter made him turn his head. The blond barista who had served him earlier had a grin on his face and crow’s feet around his eyes as he looked up at the man in front of him, who had his back to Magnus. 

Suddenly, the man turned, presumably looking for a place to sit, and Magnus felt like this was one of those times when people would say they would’ve been knocked down had they not already been sitting. Not because the guy was hot (although he was) or handsome (he was that as well), but because he was truly, genuinely _beautiful_! Black hair was sticking up in every direction, pale skin and bright eyes shining with the sunlight coming in from the windows, a wide smile still on his face from his conversation with the barista. He was wearing black jeans, the ends stuck in combat boots, the sleeves of his denim shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing a swirly tattoo on his right forearm. Magnus would have to send a thank-you note to the guy’s ancestors because they obviously did something right. And that was a very weird thought to have, so he forced himself to look away and back at the white sheet of paper on the table.

It was as if his hand moved of its own accord, rushing over the page, and before he knew it, he was reaching for the colors next to him, giving the design vibrancy. After finishing, he looked at the paper, mumbling a curse when he saw what he’d drawn. He would have been okay with his lack of originality; he could always add some accessories and fix it. What he was not okay with, however, was the fact that the model in his drawing had very distinct features – the same ones the black-haired man who was now sitting a few tables away had. Well, at least the shirt he was wearing was part of Magnus’s assignment so he wasn’t a complete creep, drawing someone without them knowing. 

He knew it was wrong to turn in the drawing – they were allowed to use real life as inspiration, not copy something or someone entirely. But there were only a few hours left until his deadline, and this was better than anything he’d come up with, so he would have to ignore the rules, and his morals, just this once. What’s the worst that could happen?


	2. Second Time – College

Why he’d ever decided to take this class was beyond him. He wasn’t even sure what it was called. Introduction to Physics? Physics 101? Makes You Want to Blow Your Brains Out 100? The third one definitely suited it as well as the first two, if not better. 

He didn’t have a problem with physics, no, just with this particular professor who seemed to be talking about anything but. Today’s lesson: Communism in Eastern European countries. The little bit of actual work that was done was at a freshman year of high school level, meaning that Alec could do it with his eyes closed and both hands behind his back. The other students seemed to feel the same way, as there was literally no one paying attention to what the professor was saying. Okay, there _was_ this one guy on the far side of the lecture hall, Simon. His eyes were trained on the professor, his hand occasionally scribbling something onto one of the papers in front of him. When they’d first started this class, everyone thought he was actually listening to the lectures and taking notes. It turned out that the professor had two catchphrases he constantly used, so every time he said one of them, Simon would note it down. He was currently on 1.1 times per minute, on average, which was more often than he used ‘the.’ Or ‘physics,’ for that matter.

Thankfully, the professor dismissed them soon, sounding as bored by himself as they all looked. On his way out, Alec heard Simon say _96 times in 90 minutes, Clary, it shouldn’t even be possible_ to a short red-haired girl next to him. It was the same Clary that his roommate, Jace, has been dating on-and-off for a few months.

Just as he reached the door, she caught up with him, practically running to keep up with his big steps. “Hey, Alec?” She called, smiling so her whole face lit up. Alec had been told before that he had a light-up-the-world smile, but Clary’s was even brighter. “Is it okay if I walk to your room with you?”

Even if it weren’t, he couldn’t exactly tell her, could he? But it _was_ okay. She was cool. Artsy, funny, kind, he had to wonder what she saw in Jace. (And if Jace ever heard he’d so much as thought that, he’d be in for it.) (And anyway, it was a joke. The two of them have been best friends pretty much since the day they were born. They were neighbors and their parents were friends, so when the boys showed up, it was a given that they’d get along. Luckily, they actually did.)

They talked about this and that on their way, settling on a day when Alec and Jace would get their tattoos touched up, as Clary had been the one to do them. That was actually how she and Jace met. The guys found this ancient rune of friendship while working on a history project in middle school, and it stuck with them until about four months ago when they finally got it done, Alec’s on his forearm, and Jace’s on his shoulder. 

When they reached the room, he unlocked the door and let her in first, huffing out a laugh as she scared Jace who had his headphones on and hadn’t heard them come in. 

As his roommate managed to recover himself, and greet his girlfriend with a kiss, which lasted way too long and made Alec way too uncomfortable, (*sighs* straight people) Alec cleared his throat loudly trying to get his attention.

“Jace, you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” he started when the blond looked at him.

“What did you do to embarrass yourself and how many people saw it?”

“Ha-ha. No,” Alec rolled his eyes at his friend’s smirk. “There was this guy at the café this morning.”

“There were many people at the café this morning.”

“He was sitting in the corner, writing or drawing or something. He was—“ He searched for the right word, “colorful, I guess?” 

Alec’s descriptions of strangers were usually limited to one feature he thought was most prominent – _short_ , _tall_ , _has those hipster glasses_ , _always in white_. So if he used _colorful_ , Jace knew the person had to be _really_ colorful. 

“Oh, yeah, caramel latte!” Jace exclaimed, receiving strange looks from both Clary and Alec. “What? That’s how I tell customers apart.” 

“Does he come in often?”

“I’ve seen him a few times. Why?”

“Do you know his name?”

“Why?”

“Jace, just answer the question.”

“Why?” Jace was smirking even harder now. “Do you have a crush?”

“I’m not thirteen, so, no, I do not have _a crush_. Now. A name?”

“It was something with an M. Something weird, like Maccauley. No, M--- Maddox? No. Ma--- Magnus? Yeah, Magnus.” He stopped for a second before raising an eyebrow at Alec, “Why?”


	3. Third Time – Tattoo

Magnus had wanted a tattoo for a long time. The first time he’d thought about getting one, he had been twelve and really into Tokio Hotel. (Don’t judge him, he was _twelve_ , and into guys, and those twins had their charms.) He’d wanted to get some of their lyrics tattooed, but he’d been too young. He’d gotten over that one pretty quickly, and over the years, several other ideas came and went, none of them sticking with him long enough to do something about it.

Until now. This particular idea has been itching at the back of his mind for months, and it’s been a while since he’d gotten his last piercing, so he wanted to get something new done.

So a couple of weeks ago, he’d come to this studio and met with Clary, a tiny red-head who didn’t seem like a tattoo artist at all, and it turned out that she’d just started working there a few months prior, but he’d been shown her portfolio and left speechless. The girl was naturally talented, that much was obvious, but he was sure she also spent hours every day working on her art, because this kind of skill required a lot of practice. 

The two of them had agreed on the look and position of the tattoo, and the time he should come back, and since then, he’d been growing more and more excited by the day.

And now D-day, or T-day, as it were, was finally here. 

He’d arrived twenty minutes before his appointment, not able to wait any longer. Clary was just giving final instructions to a girl with a wrapped wrist.

 

The tattoo itself hurt much less than he thought it would, and took a lot less time, as well. Before he knew it, Clary was cleaning it thoroughly one last time and reaching for Panthenol and saran wrap to put on it. She used his phone to take a photo so he could get a better look at it, as she’d found most people had trouble forming an opinion on their new tattoos when looking at them inverted in a mirror. The words _castigat ridendo mores_ looked back at Magnus from the screen, the elegant calligraphy situated on his left pectoral.

 

“What does it mean?” Clary had asked when he’d written the phrase down during their first meeting.

“ _Laughing corrects morals_. It means that you can change the rules by pointing out their ridiculousness,” he’d explained, curious about her reaction. Maybe she would think it was stupid and end up messing up the tattoo on purpose. She didn’t look the type, but he’d heard of things like that happening.

“Oh, so it’s like the essence of satire? Focus on the absurdity of things, laugh at it, and you might cause those things to change?” She’d inquired, genuinely interested. 

“Exactly. I’ve been questioning rules, laws, and traditions since I was a kid, as a lot of them don’t really make sense. So it seemed appropriate.”

“I like it,” she’d decided, before moving onto questions about size and location.

 

He listened to Clary’s instructions on how to care for the design, before pulling on his shirt, careful not to mess with the wrapping, and following her out to the front desk. He thanked her once again after paying, promising to call her if anything was wrong or if he had any questions, and left the tattoo parlor, barely avoiding collision with two guys who were just walking in. They seemed vaguely familiar, but he hadn’t really gotten a good look at them. Besides, he was too hyped up from his new tattoo to worry about anything right now.


	4. Fourth Time – Gallery

_What’s the worst that could happen_? Well, if Magnus had thought about it properly, he would have remembered that this was one of the exhibit projects. The university had a deal with the local art gallery that for one week of every semester, they could use the space to showcase students’ works. Sometimes it was art students, sometimes engineering, but this time, it was fashion. Which meant that twenty lucky drawings done for class would be part of an exhibit. And guess which one was chosen? Correct, Magnus’s stalker-ish drawing of one of the most gorgeous people he had ever seen, disguised as homework.

He wasn’t even sure why he was freaking out. There was no way anyone would recognize the man in his design, right? He wasn’t _that_ good of an artist. And the man himself would definitely not be there to see it, either, right? Wrong. On both accounts.

Magnus was walking around the room, admiring the drawings that were hung on the white walls, illuminated by bright white lights. There was one design he particularly liked. The theme of that week had been _arachnid_ , so there had been a lot of spiders and scorpions prints on T-shirts, and then there was this one – inspired by black widow, the spider, not the superhero, tight red and black leather with high heeled boots that reached mid-thigh. It was intimidating in a way, and wonderfully done.

He walked back toward his own design, stopping suddenly when he saw familiar faces near it.

“I’m telling you, Alec, that’s you!” The blond barista said, looking at the man next to him, who just shrugged.

“Yeah, it kinda looks like me, but why would someone draw me?” Alec said, and Magnus was happy to have a name to go with the face now.

Magnus moved before realizing it, and within seconds, he was standing in front of the two men, extending a hand toward Alec.

“Magnus Bane, yes, the guy who drew you without your permission and who is hoping you won’t sue him,” he said, smiling and looking up into hazel eyes.

“Alec Lightwood,” the man smiled back and accepted Magnus’s hand. “I won’t sue you. But you do owe me.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“How ‘bout we go out for a drink some time?”


	5. Fifth Time, First Date – Bar

The music was loud in Alec’s ears as he sipped from the tall glass, sitting on one of the high stools, his back leaning against the bar. He was still on his first martini, despite being here for over an hour. It was one of those nights when he didn’t feel like drinking, (he’d learned a long time ago that drinking on a first date might lead to bad decisions) but asking for tap water in a club like this was like wearing a _Lucifer was just misunderstood_ T-shirt to Sunday Mass. You can do it, technically, but it might be slightly frowned upon.

He had gotten here too early. He knew that. Magnus wasn’t supposed to arrive for another half-hour, but Alec was nervous. So nervous, in fact, that he’d been ready more than two hours before the date, and kept pacing around his dorm room until Jace finally kicked him out, telling him he liked their carpet and didn’t want Alec to walk a hole in it.

And now here he was, drinking an over-priced, and by now also over-heated, drink, and rolling his eyes at the people dancing, or, well, grinding on the dance floor. Most of them were younger than him, and he’d only recently started legally acquiring alcohol. (Emphasis on _legally_.) But Pandemonium was that type of club – high school and college students, lots of alcohol, secret doors if you needed a bit more privacy or something stronger than booze.

One might wonder why he and Magnus agreed to meet here. To be honest, he wasn’t sure. Magnus had suggested it, saying he had a way of making it quiet enough to have a normal conversation. Alec’s eyes continued scanning the room which would’ve been completely dark, had there not been for the green and red lasers cutting through the fog that he supposed was there to create a mystical atmosphere but mostly ended up making people choke.

His gaze landed on a figure approaching him, and he felt himself smiling. Magnus’s dark hair was gelled up in spikes, the ends a bright green. (The last time he’d seen him, they’d been red.) There was black eyeliner around his almond-shaped eyes, and his face was shimmering with glitter. An industrial piercing, closely followed by a conch, decorated his right ear as the light from the lasers passed over him. He was dressed in tight red jeans and a gold shirt, the neckline low, showing off multiple necklaces. His other ear was pierced, too, a tiny chain connecting the holes in his helix and earlobe and dangling as he moved.

When he opened his mouth to greet him, Magnus put his finger to Alec’s lips, surprising him, but effectively keeping him quiet. He made a signal at the bartender with his other hand, and within seconds, the music stopped, the lights were on, and the bouncers were escorting everyone out of the club, staff included. 

Alec was still silent when the last of the people were out, leaving them alone in the club. He just looked questioningly at Magnus, who was now mixing cocktails behind the bar.

“My stepfather owns the place,” he said, and focused on the drinks again.

“But… how… won’t he lose a lot of profit? I mean, he just lets you do this whenever you want?” Alec asked, confused.

“I only do this for special occasions. 21st birthdays of my friends, my cat’s birthday, important first dates, that sort of thing.”

Alec would’ve thought about how many _important_ dates Magnus had brought here, had something else not caught his attention.

“Your cat’s birthday?” 

“He just turned two. It was a big celebration. All his pet play-date friends were here.”

“Your _cat’s_ birthday?!” Alec repeated, incredulous.

“And important dates, so how about we start this one?” Magnus smiled at him and pushed a tall glass toward him.

Alec didn't like drinking on first dates. But... One more drink couldn’t hurt, right? _What’s the worst that could happen?_


End file.
